I breastfed my daughter for 14 months and three days. I never planned on writing about it, but I get a lot of questions and this blog is where I keep the moments I want to remember. So here’s a straightforward account of our breastfeeding journey: what worked, what was hard, and how it felt as time passed.
First, I felt grateful. Not everyone can breastfeed, and I knew how lucky I was that it worked out for us. I was also surprised by how little pain I experienced. I’d heard many horror stories about cracked and bleeding nipples, but fortunately I didn’t go through that. Maybe it was a good latch or good luck, or a combination of factors, but breastfeeding wasn’t nearly as painful as I expected. After a difficult birth experience, that relief felt especially meaningful.
Because of the complications during delivery, I couldn’t nurse Clara for the first eight hours of her life, which initially worried me. I had imagined immediate skin-to-skin contact and instant breastfeeding. The nurses encouraged us to try once we could, and it turned out Clara latched right away. That was an enormous relief.
After the gratefulness came exhaustion. Although Clara slept long stretches at night—from early on she typically slept about 12 hours and woke for only one or two feedings—we fed frequently during the day. She fed roughly every two hours while awake, so daytime life often revolved around nursing. I fed on demand, and she would cry until she nursed when it was time. Those first months were a blur of feeding sessions between naps, chores, blogging, and the small tasks of daily life. I appreciated the chance to pause and bond with her, but it was undeniably all-encompassing.
I remember a week-long family vacation when Clara was six weeks old. I sat upstairs feeding her while everyone else was downstairs socializing, thinking about how many times I would need to excuse myself over the next seven days. Nursing in public—especially in front of relatives—felt awkward then. Nursing covers didn’t work for us because Clara refused them, so I ended up retreating to a private room. Feedings were slow in those early days, sometimes 30–40 minutes total, but we still managed to enjoy some of the trip.
Pumping didn’t work well for me, and Clara never accepted a bottle or a pacifier, so she always fed directly from me. That was fine because I could stay home with her, but it meant I was rarely away from my daughter for more than an hour or two. For over a year, nursing was part of almost every day.
At about three months I settled into a rhythm and felt content. Nursing felt like second nature—I could feed her in a parked car, in a dressing room, or between errands. By six to eight months Clara had become more efficient, and most feedings were around 10–15 minutes total. Introducing solids at six months didn’t reduce her nursing frequency; she kept breastfeeding as often as before, which reassured me that my supply and her appetite were steady.
For the first ten months I still nursed every two hours during the day at her insistence. Because Clara was such a consistent night sleeper, she needed more daytime calories and would tank up while awake. My pediatrician said this pattern made sense: long nighttime sleep in exchange for more frequent daytime feedings. Around ten months she started stretching between feedings to about three hours, and that single extra hour felt like freedom. I began to love nursing even more because it felt calming and purposeful: it helped our bond, saved money, and gave me small breaks from the to-do list.
After her first birthday we began offering organic whole milk, but Clara initially refused it. She also resisted bottles, so we tried sippy cups. Water worked, but milk didn’t—despite trying many cup styles, warming the milk slightly, or mixing it with breast milk. Eventually our pediatrician suggested almond milk; she accepted that, probably because the consistency was closer to what she was used to. We gradually blended almond milk with whole milk and by around 13 months she transitioned to 100% whole milk. That month-long transition coincided with a big drop in nursing frequency—from about five times a day to just two, usually morning and bedtime.
When Clara was 13 months and three weeks old she was down to a single morning feeding. That small ritual—lying side by side and nursing—was one of my favorite ways to start the day, and I treasured it. Her reduced interest opened up new possibilities for us: the occasional date night or movie while her grandparents babysat felt like a luxury after more than a year of near-constant caregiving. But with the freedom came bittersweet feelings. I was proud and grateful, but also sad to see that phase end.
Two weeks later she stopped wanting the morning nursing session as well. I missed the quiet closeness, but I also felt proud for having breastfed for over 14 months. I know breastfeeding isn’t possible or right for everyone, and I respect the choices other parents make. For our family it felt right for as long as it lasted.
This has been a deeply personal and meaningful journey—exhausting and amazing all at once. I’m grateful for the time I had to nurse and bond with Clara, and I’ll remember those moments even as she grows more independent.